Methods of Destruction
by soaring-smiles
Summary: She lies on the grating and listens to his harsh panting, near to sobbing, remembering a time when she used to breathe in sync with him. [TenRose]


_it stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds_

_but I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all_

_what sarah said- death cab for cutie_

* * *

In the end, it's not at all how she thought it would feel like

And she's thought about it a lot. Not in the macabre suicidal way, she's never wanted to do _that_, but, well, near death experiences bring things into a different light. Just an idle wondering here and there, a stray phrase that's wandered into her mind.

And the last twenty-four hours, that's all she's been doing, thinking. About re-living her life, all those mundane and domestic bits that make up who she is, fights and kisses and sighs.

Or falling asleep or seeing a light or God or something, even though she's never actually felt an urge to attend church or sing hymns. The closest she came to spirituality was somewhere on a mountain in Krisha-Noc, where the sky went purple and she could swear the air was singing, and even then it might have been the hallucinogenic he gave her to 'enhance the experience'.

But she is wrong, or _was_, and her thoughts are occupied by which tense she's supposed to be thinking in, and if somewhere in the jail he's been held in he can feel it, the life coming out of her. She wants to tell all those crackpots and religious people that they're as far off the mark as she is. _Was_.

Because dying-dying _hurts_.

Well. Until it doesn't.

* * *

_You know, there's a clan of people on Beta-Foliopgh who comb each other's hair for bugs and eat them for their source of nutrition, well I say nutrition. It's all a bit dodgy, really, what with all the nasties-_

_Really? Never would have guessed._

_Oi. Tone the cheek down-no don't give me that look. I'm trying to make a point you silly girl. Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes. These people-well. Aliens. These aliens, they take care of each other until they die. No one gets left behind, they're a family through and through-_

_That's sounding a bit like Lilo and Stitch._

_Nothing wrong with that. Always felt for Stitch, really, the poor thing. But to get back to the point. From the day they're born-alright, yes, okay, hatched. From their hatching day to the day they burst into incandescent flames-_

_Sorry?_

_Really, Rose. Not all species go peacefully. But, my point. They don't leave each other. Not ever, and isn't that fan-brilliant? They hunt together, they feed together, they mate together…Oh stop it. Just because you have sexual hang-ups…_

_Me? I'm not the one who covered their eyes during 'The Princess Bride' when Buttercup and Wesley kissed._

_Entirely inappropriate for children's viewing. But as I was saying about this colony-_

_They didn't even use tongue!_

_That doesn't mean it wasn't graphic, Rose. Come on, you've seen the Hrisghs at work. They don't even go near each other's mouths, just their-_

_Okay, okay. I get the picture. But what was this great big point you were trying to make?_

_…_

_Doctor?_

_You know, I've forgotten it absolutely. You and your nonsensical tangents. They'll be the death of me one day._

_Yeah, and your giant ego will be mine, you hypocrite._

_…don't say that._

_Why?_

_Just don't_.

* * *

It's a bit strange, this being dead business.

the living anymore. And to be honest, she's glad to be rid of that horrible torture thing that they put her on, the one that felt like it was tearing out her skin. She's quite proud of how she held up; a little screaming but not much, some whimpering but absolutely no pleading.

Well, okay, that goes without saying. Of course it's weird, she's _dead_. A bit less deader than she should be by all accounts, but definitely not among the living anymore.

Her body is so still now. Pale and forlorn, and somehow very small, hands curled into loose fists. Rose stands-or floats, she hasn't quite worked out which-above it, and makes a face at her roots. God, did she really have that much mascara? She reaches out a transparent-ish hand.

Oh. Does that mean she's a ghost now? She never believed in that sort of thing-thought all those people who were on radio shows and TV were absolute nutters. Or should she be thinking all of this in present tense? She's still Rose, after all. Just a bit…

Well, dead.

But anyway, she guesses now they were right. Or maybe it's just her, and time-travelling has done something strange to her insides. The TARDIS is drawing her back, perhaps. The Doctor-

Oh, oh god. The Doctor. Where is he? What have they done with him? She eyes the wall speculatively. Can she walk through them now? Her steps make no sound on the cold white floor, but her fingertips don't pass through the plaster. There's a feeling like a block, or a barricade, but no actual sensation, nothing to feel.

She slides down to rest on the floor, staring at who she was. And waiting, waiting for him, or someone to collect the corpse...now that's hard to think. She's a corpse. A dead body on the floor, all because she said something she shouldn't have. _God_.

What the hell happens now?

* * *

_That wasn't funny, Rose._

_You're kidding. I nearly split my sides laughing. _

_Just because I lost my balance-_

_Tripped over your shoelaces in front of Grace Kelly! Oh, god, I'm crying. Did you see the look she gave you? Like you were a blithering idiot-_

_Thanks._

_This'll be a great story to tell...to tell._

_Who?_

_Sorry?_

_A great story to tell who?_

_Oh. I…dunno. Just people I suppose. Not like I had anyone in mind. Maybe Mum._

_So…_

_So what?_

_You…well. _

_What?_

_Never mind._

_…_

_Have you ever wanted kids?_

_That's what you were thinking of? Kids? Look, when I was six and meant to be playing house, I used to jump out of trees and see how big the bruises got. I had one doll, and used it to hide my collection of snails._

_Yeah. I don't mean then, though. I mean now. You…you don't feel…maternal instincts?_

_No. Bit early, thanks. I'm only…what, twenty? I mean, plenty of my friends have got a toddler, but that's more of an upbringing thing. Shireen's got a little girl now-_

_Well, we both know Shireen-_

_Oi! That's my mate you're talking about! Anyway, I'm too busy having fun running about the universe with you, and saving things and overthrowing evil dictatorships. I don't want them. I don't even know why we're talking about this, actually._

_I just…wondered, is all. Aren't I allowed to wonder?_

_Yeah, course. I just…look. I don't want anything else but what I have at the moment. And maybe that'll change and I'll suddenly want a picket fence and a nine to five, and a husband and yeah, kids. But I really, really doubt it._

_Why? That's what humans want, isn't it? Stability, comfort, mind numbing mediocrity…_

_Hey. Not all of us are like that. And I wouldn't want any of that stuff because then I'd have to stop travelling. I'd…I'd have to give you up._

_I'm not worth that much, Rose._

_You're worth everything. Stuck with me, remember?_

_Yeah. I remember._

* * *

She'd like to say something dramatic like '_tears mixed with the blood on his face'_ but he only cries a little when he finds her, only stumbles and catches himself for a moment, lets his shoulders shake only briefly, horror and shock claiming his features before he gets _angry_.

And the blood only really gets on his tie and a bit on his shoes, but they're his red plimsolls so it doesn't matter that much. It worries her though, how he doesn't stop. Scoops her body up, ghost-Rose hurrying out of the door behind him, and then strides through the facility to the TARDIS where he lays the body down on the grating and immediately goes back out again.

She follows. And as much as she's horrified by what he does, there's a part of her delighting in it, the way he makes them suffer. And that makes her feel worse, makes her look away as he detonates the whole place and walks slowly back to his ship, rigid fury and anger and bloodlust turning into something horribly despairing.

_Don't_, she wants to tell him. _There's a whole big wonderful universe out there don't give up for me._ But he won't hear her pleas, doesn't feel the tug on his sleeve. _I'm here_, she says again and again. _I'm still here._

But he doesn't know that, and she can't blame him in the least when he crouches down next to her body and kisses her forehead and begs her to wake up. For a doctor he's being thick, really, because she's dead. He's not a necromancer; there's a corpse and a soul floating around the room and he can't get them back to each other.

"Rassilon, Rose-please _don't_-"

And then he's crying properly, apologizing over and over, and there's her answer to her burning question right there, when he presses a kiss on her mouth, like somehow she's a princess and he can wake her like Sleeping Beauty.

She watches, and it occurs to her that even though she doesn't have a heart anymore, it can still break.

* * *

_You stupid girl, you stupid stupid idiot, how dare you even-_

_I saved her-_

_You could have died, you could have been blown to pieces right ther. In front of me!_

_But that little girl, she's safe with her mum, we did it-_

_I don't care! I. Don't Care. Don't you ever ever do that to me-_

_You're hurting my arms-_

_You could be dead. Right now you could be dead, right now and there's no bringing you back, Rose, do you understand? Five more seconds and I_

_wouldn't have been able to knock you out of the way._

_It would have been a good death-_

_Don't say that! I would sooner have seen the whole planet burn._

_You don't mean that._

_…I..._

_You don't. Tell me you don't. It's the people first, yeah? I don't matter-_

_Don't-_

_It's true! I'm one person, and they're two billion. What's one for a whole civilization? If it ever comes down to that again..._

_..._

_You're being stupid. You really don't mean that._

_You're injured. I need to treat the cut on your leg, and there's bruising on your-_

_Doctor-_

_Just get to the med-bay, Rose, and for god's sake don't try and make this any better. _

_I'm fine. I am. And tomorrow we'll go monster-hunting or go to Barcelona, or attend the Moonlight Soiree and this'll be nothing. _

_Just go._

* * *

It's irritating, being a ghost. For one thing, she's stuck in her clothes from the day she died, and the jeans are kind of patchy. For another, she keeps going to say something to him, or squeeze his hand, and then she…just can't. She sees him retreat into himself, and can do nothing to stop it.

She misses eating. And showering and hugging and a cup of tea at the end of a long day. She misses being embraced by him, feeling his arms around her waist and his coat against her cheek. All the things she didn't say, she tells him on a regular basis.

_You're gorgeous._

_I think those glasses are the sexiest things I've ever seen._

_I'd like to have sex with you. A lot._

_I think you're the cleverest man I've ever met._

_It's cute when you ramble._

_I never meant all the awful things I said to you._

_I forgive you for everything you've ever done to hurt me, and yes, that's Reinette too._

_I love you, probably._

But he can't hear, and there are no other ghosts on the TARDIS; she's checked. Sometimes there's a presence brushing her mind, like the ship's trying to communicate with her, but it's never quite strong enough to push through.

She's alone.

* * *

_That's beautiful._

_Told you! Biggest firework system in fifty seven galaxies and you wanted to go shopping. Rose Tyler, I am ashamed-_

_Ssh. This is like one of those moments, yeah? That I'm gonna remember for the rest of my life so shut up._

_Ouch. Acid tongue, Rose Tyler. Reminds me of a bloke I knew who used to destroy entire armies with a couple of ruthless insults._

_I'm never going to get you to stop talking, am I?_

_You might. If you asked nicely._

_Hah! Since when would you do that? Mile-a-minute, you lunatic. Can't get you to be quiet by asking nicely. _

_Oh, I dunno. Might do a lot of things. If you asked._

_Yeah? Like what?_

_Anything, I suppose._

* * *

The Doctor does not go outside for fifty seven days, and she counts. Her body has disappeared, and her mother will probably never be told, which makes her mad at him. He's not the only one that mattered to her, and the others deserve to know.

On the fifty-eighth day he makes a small step forward and visits a war-torn planet. She is very happy with him until he detonates all the explosives and destroys a small forest and a rebel base.

On the seventy-third day he brings a blonde haired London prostitute back to the TARDIS, shoves her up against the console and tells her to keep her mouth shut. He grunts out 'Rose' when he comes, and then pushes the woman away from him and orders her to leave. Rose tries not to feel jealous, but is a bit anyway.

On the ninety-ninth day he finds her favourite tea-cup and smashes it against the wall, not picking up the pieces. Then he collapses against the cupboards and doesn't move for an hour, staring at the tiles.

Exactly one hundred days after she died, he throws away his brown suit and wears a clashing blue one and a maroon shirt. There are lines on his face, and he doesn't smile, and when he meets a girl who Rose thinks would be suitable companion-material, he invites her for one trip only.

Martha Jones is a lovely girl, and Rose only hopes he doesn't crush her spirit and her heart.

* * *

_I'm being serious!_

_You never are._

_I am, I swear. _

_I didn't know you could sing._

_…_

_What?_

_I can't. Tone deaf, actually. Pavarotti just did it out of pity. Ooh, that just burnt my throat on the way up._

_Poor boy. Can I hear it?_

_Well. No._

_Oh, oh please?_

_You're giving me the eyes. Stop it. I don't fall for the eyes anymore. I am invincible!_

_…_

_Oh, alright then. But be warned._

_…_

_…_

_Wow. _

_Yep._

_Is that…_

_Three octaves higher than it should be? Yep. Stop giggling. You're hurting my manly pride. _

_Oh, dear, can't have that, can we? Will this appease it?_

_What are you-oh. What was that for?_

_Can't have your wounded ego suffering. You might start thinking you have flaws._

_And a kiss solves that problem?_

_Well…if you don't want-_

_No! I mean, yes, yes. It's, er…nice. More than-I just-unexpected-you're…er…Rose._

_Doctor._

_S-shall we…um. Tea?_

_Another for luck?_

_If you insist._

* * *

One day when they are out and about-one trip thankfully having turned into several- Rose looks down and sees her foot had disappeared. Panicked, she tries to twist and see if anything else has gone, fears rushing up about going for good. About leaving him behind forever, this time.

And that's how it starts.

The fading.

* * *

_You miss it. Gallifrey._

_Yes._

_I'm sorry._

_Don't be. It happened. _

_You're still lonely, though._

_No. No. I've got you._

* * *

She's so tired.

No legs no arms, just empty space and a couple of fingers.

Martha picks a fight about Rose, the Doctor explodes and starts yelling and swearing, and Martha thinks for the first time that he's severely fucked up. Rose could have told her that, could have told her all the times he's broken down and been hanging by a thread. It's not just Rose. It's his planet and his family and all the friends he's lost, and he's grieving for that as well as her.

He's barely sane anymore.

But neither is Rose. She lies on the grating and listens to his harsh panting, near to sobbing, remembering a time when she used to breathe in sync with him.

Her neck starts to disappear.

* * *

_Doctor?_

_Sorry. I can't sleep._

_Yeah. I know how you feel…that thing today-_

_Rose._

_Yeah?_

_Tell me you don't believe what it said._

_I…_

_Tell me._

_I don't. Like you said, yeah? It fed on fear, and wanted to scare me._

_Yes. Like I said._

_Are you alright?_

_Yes. Perfectly. Sorry, I'm disturbing you, I'll just-_

_No. No, please. Please stay. _

_I don't think…_

_Doctor. It fed on fear, right? Well it worked. I'm scared. It's stupid, but I am. I'm really honestly scared._

_Don't be. I'll stay._

_…you never said. What was down there?_

_It…It's nothing you need to know, Rose. We're safe now. That's all that matters._

_It's not though. You're shaken, I can tell. _

_I'm fine. You should sleep. Everything…_

_Will be better in the morning. Yeah, Mum fed me that too. I still don't believe you._

_I'll make it better. We'll do something special. Go see Albert Einstein, or Charlie Chaplin, or…Rose?_

_…_

_Rose?_

_…._

_Rose, I'm scared too. _

* * *

She's face down, next to him. A good place to be to go, by all accounts. It's been a year, anyway. Longer than she deserved, longer than anyone else ever got. Well, he got loads more lives, but he's going to do a lot more good with them, so it stands to reason. So she presses her lips to his hand because she can't hold it anymore.

For a moment she thinks he can feel her, the way he stills, the way he looks directly at her, staring down as if he can meet her eyes. She thinks he mouths her name, but then she's lost her vision, and everything sort of goes black, and the last thing she ever thinks is _I'm still here._

Then, well.

Then there's nothing at all.

* * *

_How long will you stay with me?_

_Forever._

_Promise?_


End file.
